


Trouble Sons 2 Snippet

by Blessedskies_turning



Series: Trouble Sons [2]
Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Conflict, M/M, Sneak Peak, Violence, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:59:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16786543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blessedskies_turning/pseuds/Blessedskies_turning
Summary: This is a upcoming chapter in the second part of Trouble Sons (someone come up with a better title for me)There are no spoilers but as you can see there are some problems.The * asterisk is the name of a new character that you don't get to know yet.I am still drafting so anything in here is suject to change and the full story will not be posted until im done outlining.Enjoy!





	Trouble Sons 2 Snippet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a upcoming chapter in the second part of Trouble Sons (someone come up with a better title for me)  
> There are no spoilers but as you can see there are some problems.  
> The * asterisk is the name of a new character that you don't get to know yet.  
> I am still drafting so anything in here is suject to change and the full story will not be posted until im done outlining. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Roman was out of his spot on the couch next to Enzo in a flash. He had an ugly anger streaked across his face. He practically lunged at Vincent. His mouth was cruel. Something shot through Vincent, like a warning he wanted to step back but he held his ground. This, this thing with Roman scared him, but he wasn't going to ignore it any longer. 

Everything about how Roman stood, staring his brother down, was a warning.

Enzo wasn't having it. He stood up, and shouted, “Would you pipe down for one goddamn second Rome!” 

Roman stopped. Every cell in his body snapped back to the peaceful Roman Vincent had grown up with as he turned around. Along with that all the nerves in Vincent relaxed and he let out a breath. He still felt the warning, the possibility of a fight etched along the back of his neck but it wasn't screeching for him to run, or fight back. 

Roman said, “En-”

Roman fell silent when Enzo interrupted him.“Shut the fuck up.”

Trouble. 

Enzo closed his eyes, let out a breath and said firmly, “Hallway.  _ Now. _ ” He turned and marched over to the stairwell, Roman followed. The line of his body was still tense but he didn't throw a burning glance over his shoulder like Vincent thought he would. 

Vincent was a bit surprised. Roman and Enzo always seemed like revolving forces, they never really collided. But then again, the earth had to be formed some way, and even it was descended from crashing planets.

Ritter’s stare rested heavily on Vincent. When Vincent met her eyes and he barely stopped his lip from quivering, her expression melted. She came over, put her hand on Vincent’s shoulder and smiled. Enzo and Roman were arguing in the stairwell, though Vincent didn't know what about, they were using hushed but agitated tones. Vincent looked away, that was Roman’s battle to fight, not his. Plus he trusted Enzo, even though he must have been quiet shaken at the moment. 

“Hey,” Ritter said warmly. She had red and black smear over her cheeks from the game earlier. 

Vincent looked at the ground. 

“You guys are…” She was gazing over to the corner, where the wall the separated the stairs from the living room rested. It was almost as if she could she through the plaster and drywall. she frowned. “Roman is angry.” 

It sounded right enough. 

“And so are you.” 

Vincent scoffed. 

Ritter looked at him. “That doesn't make for a happy family.” 

Vincent pushed her off, “Don't talk to me about happy families.” he sat on the couch. Propping his elbows against his knees he rested his head in his hands. The other end of the cushion sank, Ritter took her place next to him. Vincent ran his hands frantically through his hair. He didn't know why he said it. “Tell me how to fix this.” 

There was a smile in Ritter’s voice, “Ah, that would give away all my secrets.” 

Vincent looked up and  _ scowled. _

Roman didn't come back. Vincent heard a pair of footsteps going up and into his room but the door didn’t slam so that might have been a good sign. Enzo appeared in the living room. Ritter watched him. Vincent sat back on the couch and started as he went over to the fireplace and leaned against it, he had something to say. 

When he did say it Vincent wasn't very happy. “You need to leave.” 

Ritter chuckled. She  _ chuckled. _

Vincent couldn't find his words for a moment. He paused thought for a second, and then, “Why?” He couldn't leave Clarkston. He couldn't leave his brother. Plus he had thing here he had to take care of. If * was really sniffing around in Clarkston then he had to be here to make sure it was taken up directly with him and not his brother, or his brother’s boyfriend.

Enzo’s eyes flicked to Ritter. They shared it for a beat and then Enzo told him. “You can stay with Ritter for now. They have a spare.” 

Vincent looked to Ritter. Her face was calm and unreadable. Then back to Enzo. He was upset, but Vincent saw the way his shoulders trembled and his eyes were still a little wide with panic.This wasn't about Vincent and they all knew it. So Vincent said okay. 

Ritter helped him pack his few things. He had moved from California in his car and since he thought he could live in the house with Roman he hadn't brought much. The thought of getting his own apartment was tempting but something felt wrong about it. He wanted to keep all the funds he still had available. In total he had a large suitcase and duffel bag and large box for his shoes. Enzo offered to help but Vincent turned him away. “Go take care of my brother,” He said and Enzo didn't waste a beat turning and going down the hall to his own room.

“He’ll be fine.” Ritter was folding up Vincent’s freshly pressed slacks and placing them neatly in the open suit case. 

Vincent rubbed a bit of dust off of his black boots, “Who?’ 

“Both of them.” 

The sky was dark when they left. It seemed off. Even when Roman left for Clarkston it had been more ceremonious, but Ritter simply slung the duffel bag over her shoulder hooked the suitcase with one hand and shouted, “bye!” up into the rafters of the house before slamming the door and heading out into the cold air. 

They put Vincent’s stuff in the back of her green ranger rover and left. 

\--- 

It didn't take long for them to get to Ritter’s. The house was blue, and big. The windows has shutters and the grass was green and neat. There was enough room in the freshly paved driveway for two cars and Ritter easily parked next to Chris’s infinity. She hopped out and they hauled ass into the house. It was warm, and smelt like pine. The walls were clean, and everything was white and bright. It was in stark contrast to Enzo’s. His home was rough around the edges and well worn, it was like a pair of already broken in boots and felt like you automatically belonged there. This house felt like when you put on a new pair of boots and they were shiny and black and yours though not fully. 

Christopher met them in the foyer. He was something unlike the house. Tattoos of all different shapes sizes and colors ran up the sides of his arms. He was wearing dark jeans and a button up and a nice smile. Vincent knew he existed but this was the first time he’d actually met him, from what he knew he was a 23 year old tattoo artist that owned the only tattoo parlor in a ten mile radius. He was sporty and warm just like his sister. But he had a slightly more infuriatingly charming edge to his persona. 

“Chris this is Vincent, Vincent, Chris.” Ritter said. “You guys get the bags, imma go make something to eat. I'm parched.” She walked off. 

Chris smiled at Vincent and slid the duffel bag off his shoulder. Vincent picked up the box and his suitcase, with an annoyed sigh. 

His bedroom was on the first floor. Chris lead him past the living room and the entrance to the kitchen and then down a hall. There were three other doors. Chris pointed at the first one as he walked by. “Bathroom.” He rapped against the second. “My room.” Part of Vincent wanted to peer in but his door was closed.   
“Yours” Finally Chris flagged him into the open doorway. 

It was a spacey room. There was a dark wardrobe, queen size bed, large open windows and blueish grey curtains. 

Vincent muttered thanks before setting his stuff down. Chris left the duffel bag on the bed. Part of Vincent thought Chris might have lingered in the room but when he looked over his shoulder he was alone. 

Vincent unzipped his suitcase and began to unload it. He found hangers in the empty closet and a abandoned pencil in the top drawer of his chest of drawers. This room felt like dead air. Like it had been waiting for someone that never showed. 

\---

The duffel bag was the only thing left to be unpacked by the time Chris showed back up. Vincent ignored him when he knocked on the door frame and sat at the end on the bed. Chris was staring at Vincent’s back as he put his shirts in one of the drawers. 

“So what’s your sob story?” It was factual. It wasn’t  _ why do you look so pissed off _ phrased a

different way. It was  _ who are you _ . 

Either way Vincent didn't like it. He didn't have much heat in his voice and he didn't turn to look Chris in the eyes but he meant it all the same. “You know if you’re gonna come in here and be an asshole then maybe you should just get out.” 

Chris laughed. It sounded like Ritter’s. It was true and happy. No pity in sight. “You tell me yours and i'll tell you mine.” 

“ _ You show me yours and i'll show you mine.” _

“Okay.” 

Vincent didn’t answer that, just put another shirt into the drawer. He was pissed off. He was bubbling with anger. Roman, Enzo. Him. The way all Ritters seemed to wave issues off like they could be solved with a snap of your fingers. They were wrong and it was infuriating because they kept acting like they weren't. And even  _ if  _ they were right it would still piss him off. When he turned 19 Vincent’s world had been filled with problems. First his mother, then their house and their father. A job he hated, and life he didn't want to live. Then Roman, oh god,  _ Roman. _ And now to add to it *. Vincent couldn't remember a time after the age of 18 that wasn't filled with all these fucking problems. He hated how the Ritters just acted like his problems were something they could laugh at. 

He angrily refolded one of his shirts. 

He didn't turn around, Chris could look at his ass if he wanted to be in the room. 

“Christine tells me you and your brother don't get along.” 

Vincent wanted to tell him to shut up. 

But his voice was emphatic, and his words hung in the air. Vincent didn't reply. You could hear the sounds of Ritter in the kitchen singing along to the radio, she must have been making something good because it smelt kind of like roasted garlic.   
“She says that Enzo, got hurt. By his father. And that Roman blames you for it.” 

He was wrong. 

God was he wrong. 

Vincent spoke and it felt like he had just woken from a dream, everything intensified. His voice was sharp compared to Chris’. “Roman hates me. He thinks that I made this all happened. Or at least he acts like it. I don't know what else to do. He just keeps-” Vincent faltered. His knuckles were white from gripping the top of the dresser. “He keeps looking at me like  _ I’m  _ the one who jumped Enzo and beat the shit out of him. He looks at me like  _ I _ wrecked his car. And held him and Enzo apart, and broke into Alexis’ dorm and attacked her.  _ I’m the reason Enzo has a drug charge on his record.”  _

Vincent let his head hang. 

“Are you?” 

“No.” 

Vincent remembered his friends from high school. Emma and John Brown the swim team twins. Lukas the drama major who always begged to meet Elizabeth because Vincent had told him one day over lunch she minored in musical theater during college. Muhammad the trumpet playing businessman. And him, the straight A student who wanted to go to a good school and become a history professor. 

He was so far away from that now. 

Almost like Vincent had voiced this out loud, Chris said , “You sacrificed a lot for him.” 

Vincent scoffed. “Yeah I guess I did.” 

“And he doesn't see that,” Chris paused, waiting for Vincent to confirm if he was on the right path. He must have gotten his answer because he ended it with, “and that makes you angry.” 

Vincent had never really seen it that way. But the more he thought about it, it made sense. He turned around. Chris was looking up at him, his sleeves were pushed up so the ink arching across his biceps were visible. Chris’ expression changed to a shit eating grin. 

“Hey!” Ritter yelled from the kitchen. “There’s food if you want it!” 

Vincent swore Chris winked at him before getting up but he had been distracted by the art on his skin to be fully sure he did. 

Vincent finished unpacking. 

**Author's Note:**

> P.S the whole thing will not be in Vincent's POV, he is just a major part of this next addition and wanted to include him.


End file.
